My Baby Shot Me Down
by pissedoffpoet
Summary: Pre PotC:TCotBP... How did Jack and Anamaria meet? What of her past? What of his? R&R if you will. Written as a joke, but can be taken seriously out of that context.


My Baby Shot Me Down: Chapter One

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't really want 'em.

This is pre-Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, exploring the past of a couple canon characters.

* * *

Jack Sparrow opened his eyes and wanted to promptly gouge them out. One might wonder how a bright, blue, Caribbean sky could warrant such a response, but to Jack Sparrow it was as clear as the cloudless sky in question. Had it all been a dream? Had he passed out after consuming far too much rum and dreamt up his entire rescue? The sand beneath his body did nothing but reassure the truth behind these fears, and the pounding in his skull was surely proof enough of a day long liquor binge. His precious rum had duped him. 

Sighing in defeat, Jack closed his eyes, longing to return to the dream world of hope, and escape the dreary reality. He listened to the waves break along the shore and recalled the occurrences of his dream. The images were so vivid, like that of a recent memory, not like that of the oft quickly forgotten, vague visions of dreamland.

Jack groaned angrily; this was not working. He was not returning to his comatose state and grim reality more than lingered on his mind. He raised an unsteady hand to rub violently at his closed eyes, trying to rid himself of the taunting dream and subsequent images. Suddenly, Jack ceased his attempts to palm out his eyes as his calloused fingers brushed against a cloth that his forehead sported.

Something was different.

Something was very wrong.

How had he gotten possession of his beloved bandana again? He was certain separation from it had occurred at the same time of that of the Pearl. Feeling the cloth wrapped loosely around his head took the thoughts of how and why from him as the fear of losing the bandana again rose above those questions on his list of priorities. His weak hands searched the back of his head for the knot holding the ends together, but neither could find it; instead, they came across a small piece of cloth that would never make it around Jack's oversized head. Was this not his bandana after all? He removed the cloth quickly so he could examine it, but soon regretted the haste in his action. The fabric would not be removed without resistance; however, it was too late for Jack to benefit from that knowledge. His eyebrows squeezed together as he tried to ward off the pain lacing through his head while scrutinizing the material.

It was red like his bandana, yes, but it did not look like it was supposed to be as traces of what he assumed to be the original colour – white – lined the edges of it. His hand traveled to his pained forehead and probed the sore spot. Finding that that only brought about more pain, he stopped and studied his fingers. His fingertips were covered in blood; it was not the blood of a gushing, fresh wound, but black and crusty from a gash that was attempting to heal. Now he understood why it did not want to remove itself. Discarding the now useless bandage, Jack struggled to sit up; he had to figure out what was going on.

Where was he?

_When_ was he?

Startled by a change in the rippling waves, he whipped around hurriedly and saw a figure pulling a raggedy looking boat onto the shore. This was getting far too strange.

"Hello?" Jack tried to call out from his seated position. The person continued to work on hauling the boat in, seemingly ignoring him. Jack tried again and realised that he was not being ignored, but that he could not be heard. Digging deep in his lungs he tried again and belted out a strong salutation, apparently one stronger than anticipated as the person, who had now carried the boat onto the beach, gasped and stumbled, shocked that there was now a lucid person lying on the beach.

As the person grew closer, Jack realised that it was a woman; a woman who appeared to be in terrible shape. She approached Jack with caution and a feral look in her eyes.

"Hello luv," Jack said quietly with a tight smile as he managed to pull himself to a vertical position, but not without grasping his newly found painful ribs.

She looked at him with wide eyes and gently prodded him backward, guiding him to a place she seemingly prepared on the beach. She sat him down and took a few steps back before sitting herself. She stared off at something next to Jack. He looked over his shoulder to try to catch a glimpse of what held her attention, but he could see nothing and so he switched his eyes back to the odd girl in front of him.

They sat in this continued silence for a few minutes, but soon Jack's impatience with his lack of knowledge of the situation got the better of him and he cleared his throat. She startled out of her reverie and looked at him with a glint of fear, that same fear of the unknown that Jack knew too well.

"Would you mind telling me what's going on?" He asked a little harsher than intended.

She looked back at the water and then at Jack with confusion.

Jack restated his question, careful not to be so callous this time.

This did not seem to help the girl's confused state as she continued to stare at him.

Jack was beginning to think this girl was retarded.

She opened her mouth to say something, but no comprehensible sounds emerged. Jack urged her on expectantly with his hands, but got nothing more than a point to the water from the girl's arm.

Suddenly it dawned on him, this was a black girl; she likely did not speak the language.

"You know English luv?"

The girl shrugged away any hope Jack had for coming up with answers to his questions sometime soon.

He was stuck someplace, with no idea how he got to that someplace, with a virtual invalid.

With this lack of a revelation, Jack felt the energy slip out of his weary body and allowed his mysterious companion to lay him down gently on the unknown beach.

End Chapter 1.

Feedback, please?


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